


When all you have is a hammer...

by cincilin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Battlefield Flirting, Drabble Collection, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincilin/pseuds/cincilin
Summary: Collection of all the different prompt memes, requests and other assorted short-form writing I turn to in times of writer's block. Tags and rating will be updated as we go along.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Whirl (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 24
Kudos: 50





	1. DriftRod, "Pirates", T

**Author's Note:**

> This is where all the miscellaneous bits and bobs'll go as they happen. Ratings and pairings and warnings will vary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a huge thanks to [Cee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veto_power_over_clocks) for saving the world from my bad punctuation.
> 
> For @whirlybird226 on twitter and the prompt "Pirates"

“I'm not putting that on.”

“You said you want to be the captain.”

Rodimus threw his hands up. “I don’t need a stupid hat to be captain of the Lost Light! Why would I need it to be a pirate captain?”

“Well, no? That’s real life Rodimus,” Drift turned the giant red monstrosity in his hands, the iridescent-green feather continuing to flutter even after he stopped, “this is play-pretend.”

“Still not putting it on,” Rodimus muttered, crossing his arms over his hood.

“Alright,” Drift shrugged and pulled the ugly thing over his own head, “I’m captain then.”

Rodimus’s squawk of protest got cut off when Drift roughly grabbed him by the collar flaring. _“Pirate_ captain.”

Drift’s arm was like a vice on his plating and there was taunt promise in every line of his body, but Drift’s optics were soft with question, waiting for permission.

Rodimus hummed as he reached to tug the ridiculous hat further down Drift’s helm. “Maybe I like the sound of that after all.”

Drift’s answering smile was more fang than he allowed himself usually, before he shoved Rodimus down onto the berth.


	2. DriftRod, "This isn't what it looks like", T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t what it looks like!” he all but screeched, uselessly trying to hide what he was holding.  
> As Rodimus’s optics shifted and focused, taking in the picture in front of him, Drift shuttered his own, pretending that he could escape the situation if he didn’t see Rodimus connecting the dots.  
> “Really? Because it looks like a giant pillow with me printed on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a Tumblr Anon and the prompt: “this isn’t what it looks like!” “really?” “...okay, this is exactly what it looks like”  
> As always, huge thanks to Cee for looking this over for me.

It was important to stay steady and calm, Drift thought as he made his way down the corridor. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, moving at exactly the pace he was supposed to be moving at.

Nevermind that he felt as if his spark was three steps ahead of him, rushing would only be tempting fate, he knew that much. He clutched the…  _ thing _ to his chest.

Then he turned a corner and nearly ran into Rodimus. Drift’s spark slammed back into his body and tried to burst through the other side.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” he all but screeched, uselessly trying to hide what he was holding.

As Rodimus’s optics shifted and focused, taking in the picture in front of him, Drift shuttered his own, pretending that he could escape the situation if he didn’t see Rodimus connecting the dots.

“Really? Because it looks like a giant pillow with me printed on it.”

Drift peered down, but there was no running from the pouty face, nor the demurely arranged body that covered the rest of the dakimakura; it was double-sided after all. He groaned. 

“It’s…” He wanted to bury his face in it in shame, but there was no way to do that without making it weird. Not with Rodimus standing in front of him. “That’s what it is, yeah.”

As if he had just been waiting on Drift’s words, Rodimus made a grab for the pillow, trying to tear it from Drift’s hands.

“Rodimus, no!” Drift dug his fingers in, clutching for dear life.

“Let me see!” There was an unreadable note of excitement in Rodimus’s voice and he dug the point of his elbow into Drift’s shoulder joint, making Drift yelp in pain and let go.

Drift needed a moment to regain his footing, but Rodimus hadn’t bothered to run, he simply stood with his back to Drift, holding the pillow in front of himself, apparently taking it in.

“Look,” Drift began absently, trying to figure out what angle he’d have the best chance to grab the pillow from, “I really didn’t think that’d be the prize and Swerve would—”

“Prize?”

Drift hummed, why was Rodimus so pointy? No matter where he tried from he was more likely than not to get stabbed by something. “Swerve held a Dance Dance Revo contest, I didn’t think that’d be the prize and then he wouldn’t let me leave it there.” Well, it was less that he wouldn’t let Drift leave it, more that he said he’d put it on display if Drift didn’t take it. But Rodimus didn’t need to know that.

Before Drift could say ‘Frag it’ and lunge, Rodimus turned halfway towards him. “My eyes aren’t this big Drift.” There was a manic glint in his optics.

Drift cycled his optics in confusion.

“And I can’t pout like that,” Rodimus said, pouting in demonstration. It really wasn’t like that, Rodimus’s features were way too pointy for the sweet moue of the picture on the pillow.

“And,” Rodimus took a step towards him, “I don’t think I could ever even try to fake that kind of demure body language.”

That was absolutely true, but Drift didn’t really have words to say it, not with Rodimus slowly closing in on him.

“Drift.” Rodimus smacked him on the chest with the pillow, Drift’s hand automatically going up to hold it. The manic glee was now covering Rodimus’s whole face. “Drift, is this a waifu?”

Drift could feel his processor shortcircuit. What.

_ “What.” _

Rodimus’s smile was too much teeth. “ Is that what this is Drift?"

In a single second Drift felt all of his anxieties evaporate, leaving only the stark absurdity of the situation. “Oh my god.” He covered his eyes with his free hand.

“Come on Drift,” Rodimus could barely contain the glee in his voice, “there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Drift peered at him through his fingers. “Literally just shut up, right now.”

“A-am, haha, am I your waifu now?”

“Rodimus, I have a deadly weapon on me and I’m not above using it.” Drift posed himself ready to swing the pillow straight at Rodimus’s face.

Not deterred one bit, Rodimus kept on laughing, his vents rattling from the strain, barely remaining upright.

Drift smacked him in the face with the pillow.

_ Riiiiiiiip. _

He yanked back, then let go when it became obvious that the seams caught on something.

There was a still moment, while they both internalized the scene, Rodimus stock still, as the dakimakura bled stuffing, torn and impaled on his helm points as it was.

Drift wasn’t sure who started laughing first.

By the time they calmed down enough to disentangle Rodimus’s head, they were lying on the halfway floor, the murdered remains of the pillow all around them.

“Aw,” Rodimus said, uselessly holding the tear closed over daki-Rodimus’s pouty face, “this is a shame.”

“I thought you hated it.”

Rodimus looked up sharply.  _ “Hated _ it? This is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time!” 

Drift smacked his shoulder. “You’re terrible.”

Rodimus retaliated by throwing some stuffing at him. “You’re the one who had it.”

“I told you I won it at DDR!”

Rodimus’s expression turned thoughtful for a second. “So, from Swerve?”

Drift eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“I want one.”

Drift groaned.

“But this time,” Rodimus shot up to his feet, raised his fists, cocky smirk in place, a challenge in his eyes, ready to fight the whole world, “I’m posing.”

Drift shuttered his optics. “You’re impossible.”

“You wouldn’t love me any other way,” Rodimus shot back, already halfway down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really good time with this one! But I'd like The Validation now so leave me kudos and comments, and feel free to come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cincilin) or on [Tumblr](https://cincincilin.tumblr.com)!


	3. CyWhirl, "Side By Side", T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if... We fought... Side by side... And I thought you enragingly sexy... Ha ha... Just kidding... Unless...😳😳😳

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super huge thanks to Treble for proofreading this and shoutout to this Tumblr Anon for a _great_ prompt:
>
>> I mean how bout "Sweetheart I'm the judge and the jury but honestly the one I really love most is that I get to be the executioner. Ooh I can't wait, get's me all excited y'know?" Gettin a lil edgelord in here but I'mma over dramatic bitch so here's a overdramatic suggestion don't gotta use it if it ain't ur style tho bro no prob
> 
> So that and CyWhirl at my discretion.

"Sweetheart, I'm the judge and the jury but honestly the one I really love most is that I get to be the executioner. Ooh, I can't wait, gets me all excited y'kno—" Whirl never got the opportunity to find out if the bot in front of him knew, as his head was removed from the rest of him by one infuriatingly elegant arc of Cyclonus’s sword.

He followed the length of the blade back to Cyclonus himself. “Hey Hornhead.” Whirl clicked his pincers against the gun he was holding, “We were developing a connection, that guy and I.”

Cyclonus was already turning away, ready to go at the next one with all the force of the enraged spectre he resembled. “Develop faster,” he threw over his shoulder, then swung his blade and relieved the poor soul of all his material burdens with a single beautiful swing. 

Whirl clicked his pincers again, heroically resisting the urge to blow a hole in Cyclonus’s perfectly straight back and shooting the squishy that came in stage left instead. “That’s not how it goes.”

Cyclonus watched the body fall and hummed thoughtfully, “Best figure it out then, I got ten.”

Whirl spun towards him, “Since _when?”_

Cyclonus’s optics flared and in a flash he was a razor’s edge from touching him, sword thrust over Whirl’s shoulder, the blood and energon on it radiating warmth against Whirl’s neck cables. The stupid bastard behind him gurgled his final invent then fell to the ground with a clang.

“Eleven now,” Cyclonus said, tone even, but with a smirk dancing in the corner of his mouth that, for the first time in a long while, had Whirl regretting not having anything to bite it off with. _Oh well,_ he thought, plastering himself against Cyclonus’s front and taking aim at the next poor idiot. He'll figure something out.

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy, I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cincilin) and on [Tumblr](https://cincincilin.tumblr.com) if you wanna come see if I'm taking people up on anything at the moment or, you know, just watch me lose my mind over WIPs in real time.


End file.
